GROFF MEDIA 2024© TRUTH ENDURES IMDBPRO

Presented by benandsteve.com By: Benjamin Groff II©

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My Afternoons with Harry Caray

The sun beat down outside. The heat rolled in waves off the pavement. Inside my living room, the air was incredible, and the beer was ice-cold. It was that time of day again—my afternoons with Harry Caray.

The ritual was sacred. A six-pack, fresh from the ice chest, sat beside my recliner, already dripping with condensation. The TV crackled to life. There he was—Harry Caray, larger than life. His voice boomed through the speakers like an old friend stepping through the door.

“Holy cow! It’s a beautiful day for baseball!”

It didn’t matter where the Cubs were playing—Wrigley Field, St. Louis, Los Angeles—Harry brought the game home. The crack of the bat and the crowd’s screaming made each moment vivid. The agony of a blown lead and the thrill of a rally were more alive because Harry was calling it.

I took a long sip of my beer as the game unfolded, Harry’s voice rising and falling with every pitch.

“Ahhh, folks, that one just missed!”

he’d groan after a close ball.

“Boy, oh boy, you gotta be kiddin’ me!”

when the ump made a call against the Cubs. And when a fan made a barehanded grab in the stands?

“Let me tell ya, that guy deserves a contract!”

But no moment was more sacred than the seventh-inning stretch.

The organ at Wrigley Field fired up, and Harry’s voice slurred just enough to let you know he was enjoying the day as much as I was, belted out those legendary words:

“All right, Cubs fans, lemme hear ya! A one! A two! A three!”

And then it began:

“Take me out to the ballgame…”

I stood up from my chair, beer in hand, and sang along like I was in the bleachers. My voice didn’t hold a candle to Harry’s, but that didn’t matter. Our tradition was a shared experience that connected me to every other Cubs fan.

For those few moments, nothing else existed—just me, Harry, and the game.

When the ninth inning came, the excitement peaked. Whether the Cubs had pulled off a miracle or suffered another heartbreak, I lifted my beer. I then raised it one last time toward the screen.

“To you, Harry. Your legacy lives on in every Cubs fan. Holy cow, what a ride.”